


Uneasy Lies the Head

by Eve_LaBlanche



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Civil War, F/M, Loss of Innocence, Politics, Revolution, Treason, will add more tags as i go on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 12:34:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17704352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eve_LaBlanche/pseuds/Eve_LaBlanche
Summary: After the sudden death of Hyrule's king, a seventeen-year-old Zelda ascends to the throne, continuing the rule of Hylia's sacred bloodline. Four years later, the princess finds herself in the center of a revolution, at the will of a man whose face she does not know. With constantly adapting political situations and a tenuous regime of loyalists, there is nobody there to tell Zelda how to rule kingdom. For the first time, Hyrule was divided against itself. How much of herself—and her subjects—is Zelda willing to compromise to unite her people under one crown again?





	Uneasy Lies the Head

**Author's Note:**

> **Heads up!** This work will contain the following:
> 
> -Violence
> 
> If you do not feel comfortable reading such material, I recommend not reading this work!
> 
> This specific chapter contains the following:
> 
> -Violence
> 
> Additional content warnings will be added as necessary.

Zelda’s finger traced the words on the parchment slowly, as if she were trying to translate it from a language foreign to her. She glanced at the curvy signature on the curling edge of the paper.

It had been four years since she stood on the other side of the double doors and delivered this speech, projecting loud for everyone to hear. That day was a sunny one. The trees had bloomed only the day before, and the petals swirled in the springtime air like the final snowfall of the season. It was an uneasy day for everybody, but the world itself seemed auspicious. It certainly helped the then nervous princess to hold herself with the aplomb of a true queen.

That wasn’t the case anymore. Rains snagged this year’s blossoms off of the branches and washed them away into the gutters of the streets. Without a soothing atmosphere, those who dared to live in the capital were left only with their uneasiness. And the princess sat, silent and small, in the seat before her desk. Papers swamped the desk; pens with worn nibs and empty bottles of ink lay brushed aside, discarded. The rest of the room was kept by an army of handmaids, but Zelda did not allow them to touch the desk. At least she had control over _this_ vital part of her reign.

Now, the kingdom of Hyrule neck-deep in a war thirty months in the making. Now, households, legislatures, and armies fought for hours on end. Now, the once vibrant and optimistic princess was silenced and perpetually restless. For the first time in the history of Hyrule, the people were divided. Zelda’s reign was the first to be met with opposition, for nobody ever dared to challenge Hylia’s sacred bloodline—but the conditions were different. She was the first unmarried woman to inherit the throne—and she was the youngest monarch that the land had ever seen. The easy answer to the cause of this havoc would be misogyny—that the rebels loathed the idea of a woman bearing the crown of her father. They didn’t want some bright-eyed, naïve virgin giving orders to sinners twice her age. However much wisdom Zelda was rumored to possess could not substitute for years of careful observation and life experience.

But Zelda was convinced that the hatred was beyond prejudice. If it were just prejudice, she could have their voices silenced by the voice of the Goddess Hylia. But as the clock ticked, the opposition grew. What was once a heckling voice became vindictive acts of violence. Stones were thrown during parades and speeches. Riots broke out after every executive decision. Towers crumbled. Glass shattered. Portraits burned.

Then the rebels stormed the capital. Armed men stood stalwart in the streets of Castle Town, demanding to see the princess. Their steel glimmered fiercely under the raging sun. “Reveal yourself, Zelda, or we will burn this city to the ground.” Reveal herself she did not. With the lives of innocent, loyal subjects at stake, she had no choice. She assembled the royal guard and ordered their deaths, as simply as she would a cup of water. One by one, she slew them all, with but a wave of the hand. What kind of monarch would she be if she let someone defy her like that? All of these rebels were traitors, and since the dawn of civilization, there has only been one punishment for treason. Be it by the stake, by the noose, or by the swords of a thousand men, the princess would have her justice. It was kill or be killed, and she could not let the rebels take her down without a fight.

There was a firm knock at the door.

“Your Highness. I have the coffee you requested.”

“Enter.”

The doors opened slowly, and a young handmaid with dark black hair wheeled a cart into the room. Perched on the white tablecloth was a cup of black coffee on a saucer with a pitcher of cream and a jar of powdered sugar. As the lady entered the room, the cup trembled obnoxiously in its porcelain cradle.

“You may leave the door open.”

The maid hesitated with one hand on the door, but nodded dutifully and met the princess by her desk. Zelda halted her before she could get close enough to read the paper in her hand. One could never be too careful.

The maid scooped a heaping spoonful of the sugar and tipped the contents into the steaming mug. Zelda watched her every move like she were a ballet teacher assessing her pupil’s progress, ready to call her out on any misstep. Yet at the same time, Zelda didn’t look like she was going to call her out on anything. Her chapped lips sealed shut until the maid approached her with the cup and saucer.

“Here you are, Your Highness,” the servant said languidly.

Zelda measured the bitter, pungent solution before her quizzically. Her eyes flickered back and forth between the maid and the cup with suspicion. “It looks terribly hot," she declared matter-of-factly. "Would you mind testing it, to see if it is at a temperature safe enough for consumption?”

The maid gave her a blank face. “You want me to drink from your cup, Your Highness? I hardly consider it my place—and if I may be honest, I have never been a coffee drinker myself. I think it is much too bitter.”

Zelda looked exaggeratedly puzzled. “Well, suppose the coffee were too hot for me to drink. Suppose I should burn my lip, and I should drop it on myself. It would make a mess of my gown, and surely scald the skin beneath. This is standard procedure for any serving of a hot beverage or soup. Have you forgotten? Yes? Oh, what a shame, dear…" Her voice was eerie yet commanding, like the smallest string of a violin. "But don't despair. Even the greatest of friends make negligent mistakes. The best we can do is to forgive them before the resentments boil over. You understand, I’m sure, don’t you, dear? Very well. Now, I know you do not care for coffee, but surely you will do a favor of your princess, no?” The maid did not move. Zelda furrowed her brow. “What did you say your name is, dear?”

“Erin.”

“Thank you. Now, Erin, drink.” The maid’s face was strangely pale. Her eyes darted up to the princess in some bizarre form of disbelief. Zelda frowned and suddenly took up a threatening, menacing countenance. She looked like a tigress with her nose scrunched and eyes squinted, and her voice came out with a growl. “Drink. I will not repeat myself.”

The incredulous maid nodded gravely and circled her hands around the cup. She brought it silently to her lips and tilted her head back. The coffee trickled into her mouth dramatically, and she hastily set it back down on the table.

“Well?” asked the princess.

“I would consider it safe for you to drink, Your Highness.”

Zelda clicked her tongue, arms crossed. “I’m not sure. I do not prefer to add any sugar to my coffee.” She bent over the cart and peered into the jar. “It is said that it can be detrimental to one’s health in high enough doses.” A thick, uncomfortable silence hung briefly in the air. “It’s comical. I very rarely take my coffee with any additives at all. Even if I do, my maids usually serve brown sugar. Why, it surprises me that you managed to find powdered sugar at all. Pray tell, where did you find some?”

The maid did not say a word.

“No answer? How insubordinate of you, Erin! The majority of my handmaids never hesitate to answer to any inquiry of mine. I will have to speak with the lady in charge or you. To whom do you report, Erin?…Have you forgotten her name? What a pity…could you at least describe for me who trained you? No?”

The princess took the cup in her hands and stared at the liquid. She was expressionless, and her face stared back up at her in the reflection, tinted an ugly brown. “Very well, my dear. Since it is apparent to me that you are not an employee of mine, would you care to know one of the necessary procedures to serving royalty? Yes, please, have a seat. Oh, you looked flushed, my dear!” exclaimed the princess with a feigned sense of maternity. She guided the speechless maid into a plush chair on the other side of the room. “Now, it is a standard for any servant to assess the food or beverage that he or she serves to a monarch, lest there be any hazardous substance tainting it. That way, should the dish be poisoned, the servant will exhibit the effects first, therefore giving the monarch time for a proper medical evaluation. A small gesture that could potentially save a kingdom and a life. Thus, my dear Erin, in your next life, before you try your luck at vigilante justice, please, do your research.”

The princess seized the cup violently and flung it at her servant. The girl screeched upon contact; the cup struck her in the chest, spilling the near-boiling concoction all across her pale skin. Splotchy burns of red rose to her delicate skin, and she writhed in the chair. Surprisingly however, she did not rise fight. The young lady collapsed into the chair, breathing heavily, staring at the princess in horror. She looked dreadful; her expression was one that not even the most skilled of painters could capture on canvas. Her brows dipped in the middle, but her eyes bulged remarkably out of their own sockets. The sides of her mouth sagged so deep that she gave the appearance of melting. This perturbing face was the result only of the sudden realization of one’s own destruction.

“Now, I couldn’t tell you what horrible fate you’ve spelled out for yourself,” said the princess, attention turned back towards the jar. “I’m not sure what noxious poison you brought here with you in this jar...but I do know that you rebels would want to see my downfall in the most ostentatious and sadistic way imaginable. Whatever that fate may be, dear, I apologize that you will have to suffer it. I am not a cruel lady, and I hope you understand that I, too, was once a girl with a father and a family. I, too, once had people who would sob the moment my last breath leaves my lungs.. So, I would like to make a proposition.”

As Zelda spoke, the maid blinked her eyes rapidly, and her limbs palpitated. A nauseating sweat broke out on the girl’s forehead and underneath her arms. Her teeth buried themselves into the flesh of her tongue to distract herself from obvious pain. “Your death is inevitable, but your suffering is not. I could execute you with the honor of nobles, by my own sword. You will die in seconds, not minutes or hours. Perhaps you will be honored as a martyr to your bloodthirsty revolutionaries, and they will have all the more reason oppose my 'tyrannical' rule. All you have to do is this, dear:” The princess traversed the room and stood before the spasmodic youth. “Tell me where you are from. Tell me the man for who has turned you and countless others away from your own royal blood. Tell me where I can find him. Tell me, and I will deliver you from your suffering.”

The maid grasped the arms of the chair while her tantrum continued. “Never,” she hissed. Her voice sounded like smoke. “I will never bow down tor a false queen!” The girl screamed and arched her back violently. She tipped the chair back and toppled backward with a crash of her skull, after which her convulsions persisted. Whether it be of pain or of madness, she wailed indiscriminate words from her crazed lips. She thrashed about the floor, hips thrusting the air, eyes jerking open and closed. The seam of her blouse tore horizontally, exposing her scalded stomach.

Three years ago, such a nightmarish visual would have left an indelible scar on Zelda’s mind. But three years ago, Zelda was not the princess of a kingdom at war. She was a young girl wearing a crown too big for her head. She couldn’t discern what was necessary—only what was right and wrong. In a civil war, however, there is no right nor wrong. There is no compromise. 

Zelda turned her back on the dying traitor in her chamber. The cacophony of screams and limbs drumming against the floor was beginning to give her a migraine. She closed her bedroom door behind her, paced down the corridor, and told a bodyguard to report to her room in two hours to clean up a mess. She went down into the kitchen where she asked another maid to brew her a fresh cup. After watching her taste the cup first, Zelda met with the captains of the army and discussed the strategies for their upcoming battle. It was tedious and exhausting after a few hours, she returned to her bedroom with a yawn. When she arrived, the body was gone, and the chair was restored to its upright position, as if nothing had happened at all. She went promptly to bed, and she slept soundly with the rain's harmless lullaby.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! It has been way too long since I've last published a work on this account. I assure you, I am still writing! I hope to make a return to Archive after my little hiatus. I've been doing some roleplaying, attending some workshops, and trying to write where my mind brings me. As a result, I haven't gotten the discipline to complete any one work. Oops.
> 
> This post is actually from a roleplay account of mine on Instagram. If anyone's interested in roleplaying a plot like this with me, feel free to follow me @hyrulian_monarch .
> 
> I'm happy to be back!


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